You've Got A Friend In Me
by Cru- That Uptown Girl
Summary: Maybe getting to sleep wouldn't be so hard if he didn't have cardboard for a bed. Maybe he wouldn't have nightmares if alien robots didn't exist. Maybe his run-panic-run way of life wasn't so bad, as long as he had his best friend by his side. oneshot


Absolutely every detail about Sam's life was inexplicably **awesome**. He had a smoking hot girlfriend, killed a huge friggin' robot name Megatron (thus saving his alien friends and the planet Earth), gotten in to friggin' _Princeton_, brought another huge friggin' robot named Optimus Prime back to life, been brought back to life by ancient and powerful dead alien robots, and so much more. Oh, and did he forget to mention his super cool alien robot guardian/talented alien scout/_best friend for ever and infinity (B.F.F.E.I.)_ Bumblebee? AND let us not forget that the alien scout's group of more gigantic alien robots led by the very same Optimus Prime considered him _important_. Yup, everything in the life of Samuel James Witwicky is **perfect**.

Except, the huge friggin' robot named Megatron hadn't stayed dead, and Sam destroyed the only hope his alien friends had for continuing their species in vain.

At Princeton, he'd had a mental meltdown, started seeing crazy alien symbols, been molested by an alien in the disguise of a hot girl, and caused the destruction of the entire library and probably half the campus. Oh, and, of course, he was pinned to slab of concrete by Megatron while a spidery little 'con named Scalpel had plunged a robo-worm into his _brain_.

The only reason he had to bring Optimus Prime back to life was because the brave Autobot leader had died protecting wimpy, pathetic little **Sam**.

And his B.F.F.E.I. ? Captured, strapped down to a table, and poked at with _blades_ and _drills_ and who the Hell knows what _else_ because the brave, wonderful Scout had protected - guess who - weak, pathetic, little _Samuel James Witwicky_.

Yeah, everything about Sam's life was just friggin' **perfect**.

Oh, and don't even get him started on the _nightmares_. Said nightmares were precisely the reason for his midnight (past midnight, actually. The red numbers of his alarm clock alerted him that it was now 3:27 am as surely as the red optics of Deceptions alerted him of his nearing doom) melancholy. He stared up at the ceiling, arms tossed haphazardly above his head in the same fashion as they had been when he'd awoken from his most recent romp across the desert.

Eyes catching a blade among the blur, he tried to follow it in it's orbit to distract himself. It worked, until he began to focus on the shadows it flung across the ceiling. The blackness grew and morphed into Megatron's shape, inching across the ceiling and down the wall and then Decepticon was - _pinning him down and clutching his neck and he struggled and struggled and couldn't get free and all the while the demon __**hissed**__ his hideous laugh and described all the ways he had torn his friends apart-(Bumblebeeee-! Optimus! No!)- and just exactly how Sam's own life would end as the claws came dow-_

Sam bolted up, once again shaking off the stifling grip of the nightmare. He glared up at the ceiling fan, content to blame all his misery on it and it alone. Intending to punish said ceiling fan, he clambered from his bed, crossed the tiny room he'd been assigned to on the aircraft carrier, and flicked the switch into the 'off' position with all the air of a peasant punching a king. The switch yielded only a soft 'click' in return, further frustrating the teenager. Huffing exaggeratedly, Sam flopped back on to his bed, once again closing his eyes in a hopeless attempt to sleep.

He rolled onto his left side. Then his right. His stomach this time. Back, again. Right. Left. Right. Stoma- Oh just take a lighter and Lysol, set it all aflame, and hurl it off the damned side of the Grand Canyon. With a soft noise that might have better belonged to a fifty year old smoking yodeler, he turned himself fully on his stomach, yanked up the pillow and brought it roughly down on the back of his head. Tugging it around his ears and pressing his face to the mattress, he let out a much needed yell, and then proceeded to inform the mattress of all the ways Samuel James Witwicky failed at life. He could've gone on until the sun rose (not that he would know whether the sun rose or not; what, with his tiny, windowless, steel gray _cell_) if not for the sudden _buzzzzt_ of his cellphone.

Somewhat bewildered, Sam lifted the end of the pillow closest to the pseudo-nightstand (he couldn't tell if it was a nightstand, doorless mini-fridge, or white polished over-sized brick) to glance at the device. The buzzing didn't repeat itself, indicating it was text. _'Who the hell is texting me at 3:40 in the morning?'_ he groaned inwardly, then tugged the pillow down once again, deciding to ignore the message until noon or so. After about three minutes, the phone buzzed again. Then again after two more minutes. Sam only tugged the stuffed cloth tighter over his ears in a vain effort to drown out the offending cellular. Four minutes of silence passed. Then six. The boy-turned-soldier almost dared to think he'd won the battle before the phone piped up again.

_"You've got a friend in me, oh you've gooot a friend in me-"_

Oh. Right. Duh. Bumblebee. Of _course_ that's who'd be texting him at three-almost-four in the morning. With a defeated sigh he reached for the phone, cutting off another repeat of Randy Newman as it began. He glanced at the three untouched texts in his inbox, then opened them one by one.

_**StingLikeABee**__: Sam?  
__**StingLikeABee**__: Sam. I know you are awake.  
__**StingLikeABee**__: pick up the phone, Sam._

Sam regarded the messages carefully, debating whether or not to respond or think of an excuse to use later. It's not that he _wanted_ to ignore his best friend; he loved Bee, really, he did. But sometimes he wanted to wallow in his misery all by his lonesome. The teen winced as the song started up again. Woody and Buzz Lightyear seemed so much more terrifying when they were enticing him to face up to his Guardian. He opened the newest text, successfully shutting Randy up once again.

_**StingLikeABee**__: Samuel._

Full name. Crap. Hesitate.

_"You've got a friend in me, You've got-"_

_**StingLikeABee**__: Sam, please..._

Sam winced again at his friend's plea. Bee was just concerned; Sam didn't have to go and give him the cold shoulder when the alien _clearly_ knew the boy was awake enough to snub him. He flicked open a blank text and typed a single character: '?'. Bumblebee responded instantly. (Not that he should have expected any different. Cybertronians probably processed a gazillion bits of information per minute. Reading and responding to a text was a split second action for them.)

_**StingLikeABee**__: cargo hold, now.  
__**Sam_the_Man**__: y?  
__**StingLikeABee**__: you know why.  
__**Sam_the_Man**__: y?  
__**StingLikeABee**__: your nightmares. last time you stayed the night w/ me, you did not have any. come down to the cargo hold. See if you can get some rest this time as well. _

_**StingLikeABee**__: you are beginning to show more signs of fatigue & given your present condition (you were dead for 4.51134 minutes, need i remind you) that is something to be avoided. come._

Sam had almost gotten up and gone if not for the last message the Scout had sent. The obvious statement that his sleeping habits were affecting his health dragged another kicking and screaming part of Sam's insecurity from Nightmare-Land and tossed it into the Waking-World; the part of him that doubted if he and his B.F.F.E.I. were really B.F.F.E.I.'s at all. That part that reminded him that Sam had originally only been the Scout's _duty_. His sense of melancholy now restored to it's previous level, he hesitated only a moment before responding with a simple 'no.'

He sighed and laid the phone next to his head, idly re-reading an old conversation with Mikaela and a more recent one of Leo gushing about how cool the Autobots were. How the hell the techie had gotten his number, he had no idea. Leo was alright, he guessed. He took some getting used to though. He groaned as Randy started up his song again, sparing a glance at the _"Sam, you are be…"_ in the preview before deleting it without reading.

He was being cruel, he knew he was, but he couldn't help it. He knew his place among his exotic alien visitors, even if they didn't. They were huge, strong, powerful - godly even. And Sam? Well, put it in perspective; if the Cybertronians could be viewed as humans, Sam was a bug. One of those little roly-poly bugs (What on earth were those things called, anyway? Maybe if he had gotten a chance to go to his biology class, he would know), maybe, or a caterpillar. A little insect you plucked off a tree and let it crawl all over you as you went on and on about how cool or cute it was. A bug is nothing compared to you. It's not as smart as you, it's not as fast as you, it's not as strong as you, and it's _certainly_ not as big as you. And no matter how cool it was for a while, you ended its life with a chitin crunch (accident, purpose, grossed out. All the reasons/excuses are all the same).

Yeah.

Sam was that bug.

He doubted they would actually put an end to him, like humans did a bug, but that didn't mean that, when they were finally bored of him, their rejection wouldn't crush him. That was why he tried so hard to push them away! To push (friendly, loyal, brave) _Bee_ away! Why couldn't they see it was better for both parties? Why did they insist on making sure he (him! Of all people, him!) knew they were _friends_? What a laugh; as if a somewhat intelligent sack of meat and bones could be _friends_ with Zeus and the entire Olympus-crew incarnated.

_"You've got a friend in me, oh you've got a friend in me"_

Sam gazed at the scrolling text of his friend's username blankly, not bothering to cut off the song nor read message.

_"There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, We stick together and we see it through"_

He was pretty sure Bee was skipping lyrics. How he did it was beyond Sam's knowledge. Sure, the radio he could understand, but editing Sam's phone's ringtones?

_"Some other folks might be, A little bit smarter than I am, Bigger and stronger too...Maybe"_

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the 'maybe.' It was part of the song, yeah, but it still felt like the Scout was acknowledging there wasn't much (well, Earth-wise) that was smarter, bigger and stronger than himself.

_"But none of them will ever love you the way I do, It's me an you, boy"_

Sam ghosted his thumb over the "open message" option, still hesitant to press down.

_"And as the years go by, Our friendship will never die, You're gonna see, It's our destiny"_

Sam didn't know when he'd stopped feeling so frustrated. Just a moment ago he'd been ready to punch in a wall; but now, with the scout –(his guardian, his _best friend_) – trying his hardest to calm his reluctant-to-even-visit charge, Sam really couldn't find the heart to be angry. If he weren't adamant in keeping his teenaged male pride, he'd almost think he was on the verge of tears. (No, those dark spots on his pillow aren't tears. They're….drool… little bits of drool…yeah.)

_"You've got a friend in me"_

He opened the message.

_**StingLikeABee**__: Sam... I would like it if you would come down to the cargo hold. please. with some sort of frozen dairy topping?_

... __

_**Sam_the_Man**__: Yeah yeah. I'll be right down. Friggin' guilt tripping me.  
__**StingLikeABee**__: Good boy.  
__**Sam_the_Man**__: Smart-aft._

_**Author's note:**_ So, whatchya think? Bee and Sam just did not have nearly enough bromance, in my opinion. Oh, and I have some fun facts for the lot of you who care.

#1 : I had just watched Toy Story when I wrote this, hence the theme. However, a few weeks afterwards, I was browsing fun facts about Shia and learned that (dun dun dun!) one of his favorite films is toy story. Ta-da~

#2 In regards to Toy Story (because my friend pointed it out and I had to share) : It's been what, 11 years since Toy Story 2 came out? Yeah. I was originally all "haha, little late, aren't you?" too. But then my friend laid it out for me. My generation (Early 90's kids) was the first to watch Toy Story. We were all about the same age that Andy was. The second film went with our ages. There was little gap, so it wasn't hard. Now, eleven years later, we're all grown up and going off to college. **And because of that Andy is too. **Myself and my senior class are _literally_ **growing up with Andy, Woody, and Buzz**.

Wait. Let it sink in.

_**How cool is that?**_ Yeah, you're flipping out. I did too.

(oh, and I totally have reason/meaning behind Bee's username. Buut I might save it for another one shot.)

Cru, over and out~


End file.
